


Legendary Heavy Load

by Maksvell



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - Welcome to Night Vale Setting, F/F, Lasers, Night Vale, Pulp Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Spies, Spies & Secret Agents, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, secret agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maksvell/pseuds/Maksvell
Summary: “Your assignment is as follows, you are to either apprehend or kill Summer Diane Smith and her...associate, Wendy Blerble Corduroy. Somehow that little nitwit figured out how to master portal technology.”





	1. Summer & Wendy vs. the CIA.

David Palmer sat alone in the Oval Office. His chair turned to face out the office’s window, looking out into the world. He was in a mild trance, meditating a bit when his thoughts were interrupted. 

“Sir?”, Palmer turned and faced two smartly dressed young men and a young woman. One was older and had long curly hair that accented his pointed face well. The other male was younger, and his hair was shaved down in a very proper buzz-cut, the woman stood (unlike her male counterparts) in a very still manner like she would shatter if she were to move.

“I’m going to be very brief with you three. This mission that you’re about to undertake is not to be taken lightly. This is strictly off the books, officially we never met tonight, no one but you and I know that we are here.”

“Understood sir,” said Carmen Cortez, the woman who stood painfully still. 

The two men, agents Malcolm Wilkerson and Mike Howell nodded in agreement.

“Your assignment is as follows, you are to either apprehend or kill Summer Diane Smith and her...associate, Wendy Blerble Corduroy. Somehow that little nitwit figured out how to master portal technology.”

Malcolm raised a finger, “Portal technology? Like the thing from Aperture?”

“Yes CB-1, just like from Aperture, but if it allowed you to go from universe to universe, and planet to planet like it was nothing. The technology itself is incredibly dangerous, and those who know how to use it consider themselves to be akin to gods,” Palmer paused and fished a bottle of scotch from his desk, which he then proceeded to pour it very liberally into a large tumbler.

“We had one before, Summer’s grandfather, Rick Sanchez who’d used to run around and ultimately cause all kinds of things. He’s proven to be rather difficult to catch and control, but Smith has proven herself to be very easily tracked. She’s currently in New Mexico with Corduroy.”

Wendy awoke in a bed, the space in the bed next to her was cold and empty. Summer was already awake, sitting in the kitchenette and cooking eggs from the smell of it. She slowly clambered to the other side of their motel room, blankets still draped around her shoulders like a cape or a shroud. Sure enough, she was correct, Summer was standing there, dressed in her usual attire of a pink tank top and white jeans.

“Morning,” said Wendy in a strange mixture of lovesickness and tired optimism. She slowly walked behind Summer and wrapped her arms around her torso. 

Summer smiled softly and responded in kind, “Good morning.”

“Breakfast smells good,” said Wendy who was still in the middle of waking up. “But, I’m sure that it won't compare to what I had for dinner last night.”

The comment made Summer blush a deep shade of crimson and laugh nervously, they had been together for the past three years and Wendy could still make her blush like a virgin bride on her wedding night, “You’re terrible.”

“Not too terrible I hope, you seemed to enjoy yourself last night,” Wendy was slowly regaining her witty edge as she began to wake up properly.

“I was clearly faking it,” said feigning denial. 

“Dude, you wound me so. What shall I do now? The love of my life is not enjoying my company,” Wendy threw the blankets to the floor and made a very flamboyant act out of it. She fell to the floor and feigned weeping better than most actors who portray Romeo on the stage, “Weary is my heart, Summer.”

“Wendy, you’re a huge dork. A very cute dork, but still a dork.”

In one rapid motion Wendy stood up, the bed’s blankets in her big strong arms.  
The calm silence was broken by the sound of a jackboot busting through the door to their room. The girls knew how to react, they had mentally and physically prepared themselves for the inevitable. Summer darted left, grabbed the hot pan of eggs off of the table and flung it at the head of the nearest man wearing a black balaclava and ballistic armor. He fell to the ground, rapidly firing off bullets into the ceiling. She ducked and kicked the kitchen table onto its side. She looked to Wendy who ran to her side with their bag of tricks. They waited. Only one of them fell, and it would only be a matter of time before they rushed into the room, like a series of jackbooted ants swarming from their hive. Sure enough they entered and drew assault rifles on the pair as they hid behind the kitchen table, and then came a voice over the radio, a voice that was like sweet, warm honey, falling onto a dinner roll, though his words were not as sweet as they sounded.

“Citizens, at this present moment the Sheriff’s Secret Police in association with the Strange Yet Menacing Government Agency have my cousin’s (The President’s) fugitive’s cornered, at the Get-In-Never-Leave-Motel. More on this as it develops.”

Summer and Wendy shared a look and snorted in response to the man on the radio’s commentary. Summer fiddled around with a device in her bag before passing a laser pistol to Wendy. She smiled sweetly and placed a kiss on her because if this was going to be her last moment with her she wanted it to be somewhat sweet. Wendy kicked the table and they fired on the armored police officers, ripping them to shreds or just outright disintegrating them with the fire of their laser pistols. Within minutes they were alone again in their room, their bodies coated in a layer of sweat and the blood of their enemies.

“Holy shit,” wheezed Summer. “I can’t believe that we’re still alive.”

“I know right?”

“We need to get the Hell out of here.”

“YOU WON'T BE GOING ANYWHERE!” said the man on the radio.  
Wendy turned and faced the radio, “Yeah? Well, fucking watch us then, bitch.”

Summer finished the damn thing off with the blast of a laser beam before it could continue. The two shared a brief look and rushed around the room, picking up bits of whatever could be useful, bullets, a few guns, stuff from the mini-bar, only the essentials of course. They quickly fled out to their car, an electric orange El Camino that was miraculously untouched by the cops. The radio was still playing.

“YOU IDIOTS, DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT IT’S THAT EASY TO LEAVE TOWN?”

The two climbed into the front seat and ignored Cecil’s foreboding words before Wendy dug their portal gun from their bag of tricks and fired it at the wall in front of them. The two laughed like a couple of heathens as they drove into the wild, and existentially upsetting green yonder.


	2. Bueller

The drive to New Mexico was relentless. Seventy-three hours trapped in a windowless van without air conditioning. To agents Cortez, Howell, and Wilkerson. It might as well have been a smoker. The three of them felt as though the Texan sun was threatening to roast them alive.

Malcolm was whispering to himself as he stared out the front passenger’s seat. Causing agent Cortez to shoot him a suspicious look.

“What’s his deal?” she whispered to Mike.

Mike Howell poked his head in from the back seat and gave a brief glance at agent Wilkerson before looking at his superior.

“The fact that he’s smarter than all of us? The fact that he believes himself to be the subject of some sort of cosmic Truman Show? The fact that he’s a stand-in for a dead agent that looked just like him?”

“Jesus, nevermind. No wonder Palmer recommended that we don’t speak to one another.”

“Well, hey. He’s got a lot on his plate. His parents ruined his whole life and I think that it’s kinda left him a little fucked up in the head.”

“Well, who’s parents haven't?”

“Mine. Maybe, I don’t exactly remember my parents, so yeah.” Mike made a pop sound with his lips to punctuated the end of the sentence, “So, how much longer until we reach this town that Palmer needs us to get to?”

“That’s difficult to say.”

“I...I don’t follow.”

 

“Well you see, Mike this town doesn’t operate under what you or I would call logical principles. Time doesn’t work the same there as it might for us, but we’ll know when we’re there.”

Without warning the area surrounding the car became a hellish sort of kaleidoscope of reds, purples, and insanely bright tangelo colours. Mike’s eyes went wide and Malcolm ceased his monologue.

“What the hell is happening?” said Malcolm with that little pinch of irritation that made Carmen Cortez punch him in the shoulder. “Ow! Fuck off!”

The radio roared to life and they could hear a voice that was like a drizzle of warm honey begin speaking, “The dog was a bastard. Welcome to Night Vale…”

 

When the car came to a stop in the scrublands surrounding a small town, Mike immediately climbed out of the van and collapsed onto the course, and covered ground and began to vomit.

“What the hell was that?”, he said as soon as the bile ceased to fly from his esophagus.

A tall man with short dark hair in a neat black suit and aviator sunglasses stood before him a warm, mildly sinister smile on his face as he extended a hand.

“Need a little pick me up?”

Mike grasped the strange man’s hand and was quickly lifted to his feet.

“See, much better. You’re Howell, right? One of Palmer’s guys? I take it those two behind you are the rest?”

“I’m in the command of this thing, actually,” said Carmen Cortez as she stumbled towards the sharply dressed forty-something with Wilkerson in tow.

“Ah, excellent. Well, unfortunately for everyone involved they’ve already flown the coop,” the man clasped his hands together, tapping each individual tip against the other, “Somehow my guys, some of the best guys around managed to get gunned down by a couple of Co-Eds.”

“I’m sorry, but who the heck is this guy?” chimed Malcolm from behind Carmen.

“Oh, right. So sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I’m agent Ferris Bueller of the “VYMGA”, ” he made damn well sure to do finger- quotes around VYMGA. “A pleasure to meet you three.”

Malcolm shot him an annoyed look, “That doesn’t exist.”

 

“And technically we don’t and yet we do. It’s weird like that. That’s basically what all these locals call us, The Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency. Honestly, it’s kinda adorable, they’re all so oblivious to our acts of espionage out of a mixture of several things. Can you fine young guys and lady tell me what those things are?”  
The group of four fell silent as agent Ferris Bueller waited for a response that would not come.

“Fear, Propaganda, Black Magic, and Unlawful Arrest,” said Bueller with a smile and the insane glee that one only sees on the faces of schoolyard sadists.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

 

“Yeah, ain't it great?” He froze and then looked at Malcolm, his frown quickly leaving his face. “You talk to them too don’t you?”

Malcolm's heart stopped, “Talk to who?”

He slowly crept up to Malcolm and they both got a feeling of familiarity from one another, “Anyways, moving on I’m going to need you three to follow close behind me.”

 

He led the group to a small motel that was just outside of the town proper. The place was surrounded with black armored vans and agents in body armor and suits, “As you can see, the whole damn place is an absolute mess.”

Walking in they could see an absolute bloodbath had occurred. Malcolm and Mike looked as though they were going to vomit. “Yeah, an absolute mess, my guys got taken out by these two maniacs. Honestly, I probably should have been there, with my luck I probably could have turned the tide of this whole thing.”

“This is where Corduroy and Smith were last?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Little maniacs made asses out of us. Gunned them down like dogs and Cecil’s all pissy with us,”

“Goddamn,” Mike examined a pile of dust on the kitchen floor, “Was this a guy?”

Bueller turned to him, “Yeah, that was my good friend Zack Morris, now would you please stop finger popping his remains?” He said it with the widest grin and widest eyes that Mike had ever seen. Mike quickly slide his fingers out of the ash pile, “Thank you.”

He then turned to face Cortez, “Now we can glean from some of the bits of notebook paper that they could be in the following places. He snapped his fingers and a short agent wearing a bright yellow Yokai mask handed him a piece of notebook paper in a plastic ziplock bag.

Cortez examined the evidence, it was a little slip of paper with the words, “To Do” located in the top middle portion of the paper, beneath that were the following cities in descending order, “Seattle, Chicago, Gary, Paoli,” all of which were crossed out. They were then followed by several more uncrossed out cities, “Miami, Tampa, Las Angeles, Las Vegas, London.”

 

“So you think that they might be heading to some of these places?”

“Maybe, but there are some mild complications that might occur.”

“Such as?”

“Well since that little stirrup MI-5 a couple of years ago it’s been rather difficult for American agents to just wander around London. In the late sixties, it was really difficult, a couple of ODIN agents got fucking murdered because that bitch Peel had a psychic under their thumb.”

“Shit, I forgot about all that. They’re still really sore about us turning one of there’s into our little double agent?”

“Think so, last I heard he was either dead or wheelchair bound with all sorts of venereal diseases. But, without him we wouldn’t have had the inspiration to have a series of doppelgangers for one of our best agents, like that little number over there.” he pulled Malcolm close to him, and leaned in really close to whisper into his ear, “Remember Malcolm, there are like eight more specky little nobodies that are very willing to take your place, so don’t fucking cross us.”  
“O-okay, Mister Bueller.”

“Excellent, now let’s get you idiots the fuck out of town before you get permanently affixed to the landscape.”

The trio of agents exited the building to find that all the other agents and their vans had disappeared, save for one van, the van that belonged to them. Malcolm turned to ask Bueller what the deal was and he and all the other agents seemed to have vanished.

“What? - But?- What the hell?”

“It’s best if you don’t worry about it Malcolm, said Carmen as she got into the front seat of the van and began to drive off into the opposite direction of Night Vale.


End file.
